


Light it Up

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Series: In the Dark [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, fear of the dark, radio shows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 08:04:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12054774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: After the events of Spark to Ignite, Shiro picks up the pieces.





	Light it Up

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

Shiro groaned and burrowed deeper into the blanket.  No way.  Whoever wanted him could wait.  Right here was warm and soft, and he was in absolutely no mood to leave it.  The heat was sinking into his bones, soothing recent aches and pains.  There was no way he was moving.

A hand rested on his shoulder, a pressure through the thick blanket.  “C’mon, Shiro, we need to make sure the sedative didn’t put you into a coma or something.”

Coma?  Eh, Shiro could live with that if he didn’t have to wake up.  “Mmmf,” he responded dismissively, pulling the blanket over his head.

Which threw him into pitch darkness, the walls close and the air stale, and-

Jolting, Shiro sat up suddenly, eyes instinctively opening wide as he searched for light.

There was plenty of light in the rec room.  The screen was on, playing the end of some animated movie, and the lights on the walls were up to full shine.  That made sense, because it was where Shiro had set them to be this morning.

This morning before the surgery.

Oh, right,  _ that _ sedative.

“There you are,” Hunk greeted warmly, completely ignoring Shiro’s moment of panic.  “How are you feeling?”

Shiro blinked at him.  “Hazy.  Awake, though.”  He started to push his way out of the blanket burrito he’d been tucked into, then paused.

He had tried to use his right arm.  The blanket only shifted slightly, because there wasn’t a hand on the end of it anymore.

Whoops.

Using his left arm, Shiro squirmed his way out of the blanket and looked down.

By now, he was nominally used to seeing the cap where there should be flesh.  It had only been a couple of days since the team gotten Shiro out of that room, but most of that had been spent one-armed.  After all, it had been all too possible he’d cut someone open with the exposed edge of one of the panels, or poke a nerve again.

Now, though, the cap was much shorter, nearly flush with the end of his stub.  It looked less like a long cup over the edge and more like a proper port socket.  There was also less visible skin than there had been, as a soft material like a sleeve crept up to his shoulder and hooked around the curve of the muscle.

“Huh.”  He tugged on the black stuff, then stroked his fingers over it.  It didn’t feel like the same material Altean clothes were made out of.  It was too elastic for that.  But it wasn’t uncomfortable, either.  “This is for support?”

Pidge nodded.  “A little extra.  We couldn’t remove the metal bars inside your arm without possibly doing more damage.  But we’re sure they’re absolutely inert, and now they won’t be supporting all the weight on their own.  Should be easier on your muscles and bones.”

Turning the stump arm over, Shiro hummed.  He ran his fingers along the strange socket.  “Interesting.”  Was the new one going to be removable?  That was useful.  Sleeping on a metal arm was beyond uncomfortable, and too many pillows only made it harder for Shiro to drift off.

Speaking of sleeping.  “Why aren’t I in the med bay?”  He asked, jaw cracking with a huge yawn.  “The sedative is definitely still in my system.”

Keith sighed.  “We figured it was best if you weren’t on a medical table when you woke up.”  His gaze was apologetic, probably for saying it out loud.

Cheeks coloring, Shiro cleared his throat.  “Oh.  Thank you.  I appreciate that, yeah.”  He looked down at his still blanket-wrapped knees.  “And I’m not in a coma, so that’s good.”

“Much as you could use the sleep, we’re glad to have you back.”  Lance stepped closer and sat down on the table in front of the couch.  “Lay back down before you keel over, though.  You still look out of it, Shiro.  No offense.”

Shiro blinked at him.  “That was a little offensive.”  But he obligingly settled back down.  His head fell right back onto the pillow behind him, and only then did Shiro realize it wasn’t flat on the couch.  It was pressed up against Hunk’s thigh.

Oh.  Looking up at Hunk, Shiro blinked.  “Am I taking up too much room?”

“No way,” Hunk reassured him.  “We wanted to keep track of your breathing.  I can move now.  Besides, we’re crashing in your room, not the other way around.”

Shiro blinked.  “This isn’t my room.”  A hand appeared out of his peripheral vision and he ducked away from it, not sure why it was there.

“You’ve been sleeping in the rec room since you got out,” Keith pointed out.  “It’s yours until you’re comfortable moving.  That’s okay.  Now quit squirming.”

Pausing, Shiro frowned and turned to look at Keith.  “Why?”

“Because I need to feel your temperature,” Lance told him, hand still outstretched.  “Shush.  You’re a soldier, you’re supposed to be good at following directions.”

Shiro snorted, but obligingly let Lance feel up his forehead and neck.  “I’m an officer, I’m supposed to show leadership initiative.”

“I bet the instructors loved that excuse,” Hunk noted, voice warm.

Lips curled up, Shiro closed his eyes.  “Mmm.  Harris hated it, but Montgomery thought it was funny.”  

“Why are you using your hands anyway, Lance?” Pidge asked.  “Use the pad.  You can message the results to Coran.”

Lance huffed.  “This way is better.”

“Oh, you can tell his exact temperature to the second decimal with your palm?  I’m impressed.”

“Pipe down, we can do the pad next.  He’s fine, though.  Feels about normal.”

Shiro chuckled, amused by their chatter.  Right now, he still liked hearing it, even if it was bickering and arguing.  It meant someone was around.

“You want to sleep again?” Keith asked gently.  Judging by his voice, he’d moved closer.  “You still look exhausted.”

Hunk’s hand - Shiro could tell it was Hunk, his were the biggest and most calloused - brushed over Shiro’s forehead, pushing his bangs out of the way.  “The sedative is probably still active.  And after two days, he’s got a hell of a sleep debt.”

“Pfft,” Shiro murmured, without opening his eyes.  “Two days isn’t that much.”

“You terrify me,” Lance said flatly.  “You’re going to drop dead and turn into a sleep zombie, and your bite will put people into a coma.”

Shiro yawned hard.  “Kay.  Put me on a Galra base.  Sounds like a good plan.”

“How about you get some sleep, then fly the Black Lion?” Pidge suggested, a hint of a drawl to her voice.  “And maybe give us less scares in the future.”

“I can do one of those,” Shiro offered.

“That’ll do.”

***

Having one arm was very inconvenient. 

Thankfully, Hunk had the foresight to make a meal that only took one hand to eat.  It was some kind of warm soup with little triangles that fell somewhere between crackers and bread slices.  Maybe like pita bread?  It had been a long time since he’d had any to compare.

It meant Shiro could use his left hand to eat and dunk, while Coran maneuvered the stump of his right arm around like a sculptor examining his creation.

“Everything is comfortable?” Coran confirmed.  He raised Shiro’s arm up nearly over his head.  Shiro rocked with the movement, keeping his expression completely flat as he was manhandled.  “Nothing presses?”

“It’s fine,” Shiro replied.  “I’ve had one of these for awhile, you know. It’s fine that it’s not always perfectly comfortable.”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Coran’s shoulders tightened and his gaze burned.  “Do not mistake my work for that of that- that...”  His voice dropped and he muttered out a few words that didn’t translate.  Across the table, Allura choked on her soup.

Shiro paused.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you.  I just know it’s going to pinch and be heavy at times.”

“A competently made one will not,” Coran snapped.  Then he sighed, his shoulders slumping.  “Shiro, you must understand, your prosthetic was made to hold up well in combat, but it wasn’t made with you in mind, other than its shape.  There are very basic techniques that can help mitigate the weight or make sure it feels comfortable.  Haggar chose not to use them.  I will not make that mistake.”

That-

Well, it made sense.  Haggar hadn’t made it with good intentions, or even for long term use, likely.  Shiro was captured and forced to fight, either in the Arena or anywhere else they wanted.  He hadn’t had a long life expectancy.

So why bother to make the day-to-day, long-term use of it comfortable?  As long as he could hold it up, that was what Haggar cared about.

Tension ran through Shiro’s arm, like he was trying to make a fist but nothing was there.  It took several tries to let go of it.

Coran frowned.  “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Shiro replied.  He glanced around at the table, uncomfortable with being the center of attention at such a vulnerable moment.  “It feels good so far.  No pinching.  But, um, the fabric on it.  How do I get it off?”

Brows up, Coran tapped on a small nub at the edge of the port.  The fabric unwrapped itself, hanging loosely from the metal edge.  At another tap, it snapped right into place. 

It wasn’t until it was back on that Shiro realized how tightly the fabric was squeezing.  He rolled his shoulder, adjusting to the feeling.  “It might be a size small, actually.”

Coran shook his head.  “No, it’s meant to be tight.  It’s to help improve blood flow to this area.  Since your arm will connect and work with your muscles, it isn’t an absolute necessity.  But I’ll still ask you to wear it whenever the arm is on, or at least for a portion of the day.  It will prevent long term issues with your human physiology, such as muscle atrophy.”

Frowning at his shoulder, Shiro nodded dazedly.  “Oh.  Alright.”

This was so much more complicated than he’d thought it would be.

“So,” Lance drawled, drawing the attention of the table to him.  As the weight of the eyes left, Shiro sagged in relief. He wanted to deal with the changes in private, where he could react without feeling on display.

From the flash of a smile Lance shot him, he understood that.

Shiro smiled back, just a bit tired but no less warm.  He mouthed ‘thank you’.

Without reaction, Lance waved his spoon in the air.  “How long until Shiro can karate chop the Galra into submission again?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Pidge replied, each word slow and careful.

Uh oh.

Keith tilted his head.  “You said it shouldn’t take long, since you had an example to work off of.”

“Yeah, well...”  Hunk dunked his bread into the soup, watching that instead of meeting anyone’s eyes.

Oh, boy.

Shiro managed a thin smile.  “I broke it too well, huh?”

“You did a good job, I’ll say that,” Coran agreed.  “It won’t take us much longer.  We had plenty of scans from before, after all.  The difficult part is going to be replicating the exact function of the active attack mode.  The rest we can figure out or improve on, but when you broke it, you were wearing some kind of inhibitor, correct?  That was jammed into it, so it’s difficult to tell where it affected the arm.”

Pidge held up her hands, bread held loosely between two fingers like a playing card.  “It’ll be like, a day more.  We’ve got to do more testing.  It won’t take long, still.”

“Are there other arms we could use?” Keith asked.  “Prosthetics, I mean.  If they can come on and off now, at least he’ll be able to grab things.”

“Nothing in his size,” Hunk replied.  “We could stop and make one, but-”

Allura sighed.  “But it’ll delay the fully functional arm.”  She glanced over at Shiro, head tilted.  “It’s your call, Shiro.”

Considering, Shiro leaned back in his chair.  “How functional will the temporary arm be?”

Rubbing over his mustache, Coran hummed thoughtfully.  “It will have some basic articulation and grabbing ability, but nothing much beyond that, I think.  Unless we stop to design a more advanced version for you, and that’ll delay the process even further.”

“So it won’t be useful in a fight,” Shiro concluded.

“Goodness, no!” Coran replied.  “Other than assisting your balance.  Even holding a shield would be questionable.  The grip won’t be very strong until we can hook it to your system.  No, it won’t make much of a difference.”

Sighing, Shiro nodded and went back to his soup.  “Then focus on the real version.  That should be our priority.”

Lance cleared his throat.  “Your comfort and ability to get around is pretty important too, Shiro.”

“I’ll be able to do that fine,” Shiro replied.  “And it’ll only be for a few days.”  He paused, thinking about it.  “There’s one thing I’d like to test this afternoon, though.  In place of training.”

***

“This strikes me as a bad idea,” Hunk said over the comms, voice mild.  His expression on Shiro’s screen was flat and disapproving.

Shiro smiled back.  “I don’t see why.  We’re not going anywhere except around the castle, and it’s not as if moving the levers has much effect on the lions themselves.  It’s just intentions.”  But he paused and  tilted his head at the screen.  “Do you think there will be a problem like this Princess?”

Another window popped up.  “Problem is not the word I’d use,” Allura replied.  “It won’t be as easy, but you’re correct that the lions can be flown without direct contact to the levers and pedals.  They are concentration aids more than they are controls.”  Her gaze went wryly.  “And the fact that you’re navigating the screens without touch seems to indicate you won’t have significant issues.”

“I’m pretty good at concentrating,” Shiro replied, lips quirked mischievously.

“Shiro’s right, we’re not going anywhere.  And if something goes wrong, we can handle it before he even needs to think about helping.”  Lance sounded utterly relaxed.  “Besides, this is good, right?  What if one of us dislocated a shoulder or something and still needed to fly back?  Now Shiro can give us tips.”

“The sooner we do this, the sooner we’ll be back on the ground,” Pidge agreed.  “Just a few laps, right?”

Shiro nodded agreeably.  “Half an hour at most,” he hedged.

“Shiro will be fine,” Keith agreed calmly.  “It’s flying.”

The simple confidence made Shiro smile.  He suspected Lance’s casual confidence came from Shiro’s reputation from the Galaxy Garrison.  Keith, on the other hand, had flown beside him on dozens upon dozens of simulation.  And he thought it if involved flying, Shiro could do it.

That was flattering, but also nerve-wracking.

Shiro wished he had that much confidence in himself.

“Good luck, Paladins,” Allura called.  “Let me know if you want me to activate the castle’s defenses to give you more of a challenge.”

Nodding, Shiro nodded to the screen.  “Will do.”  He reached out, one hand catching the handles, and the other falling far short.  For a moment, his stomach twisted, but then Shiro shook it off.  “Let’s go.”

The Black Lion lifted off, as smoothly as ever.  Shiro took a deep breath, then released it, slow and controlled.

There.  No problem at all.  Having only one arm didn’t have to be an issue.  Shiro could handle this.

“Alright,” he called.  “We’ll fly in Voltron formation.  But for now, resist the urge to form up.  That’s not what we’re testing, here.”

There was a chorus of agreements, and they all streaked around the castle.  Shiro held his breath, fingers clenched hard around the control, but it was a smooth ride.

Finally, he shoulders unknotted and he let himself ease up.  No problem.  Like he’d said, and Allura had agreed to- it was all in his head.

“Everything still good over there?” Pidge called.  

“Just fine,” Shiro agreed.  “Okay, Princess, you can go ahead and-” he started to turn the Black Lion around, the move absent as he made to face the other lions.  But he reached out again, and this time didn’t catch himself as his right arm automatically moved too.  When his non-existent fingers didn’t catch the controls, he lurched to the side.  Shiro’s stomach jolted like he’d tried to take an extra step on the stairs and missed.

There was a pause.  “...Activate the defenses?” Allura finished carefully. “Is something wrong?”

Shiro rightened himself, cheeks pink, and took a moment to be glad no one could see his face through his helmet.  “Sorry, slipped for a moment.  Yes, go ahead.”

“You sure?” Hunk asked, head tilted and eyes too sharp as he watched from on screen.  “You did just nearly fall out of his seat.”

Shiro’s lips pulled down sternly.   “I’m fine,” he repeated, voice flattening with annoyance.  How many times was he going to have to say it?  “Just habit.  It hasn’t affected my flying so far, right?”

Nodding agreeably, Lance raised a thumbs-up to the camera.  “Shiro’s got this.  Besides, I could do with a little dodging practice that doesn’t involve Galra jets.”

On screen, Allura hesitated slightly, but then nodded.  “Activating the defenses now.”

Below them, the hexagonal shield formed around the castle, shrouding it in glowing blue.  There was a flash, and a beam of energy shot toward them.

There was no time for more questioning.  Shiro zipped out of the way with the rest of them, then turned the Black Lion over, tensed and prepared to fight.  But there was no shots coming toward him yet.  Right now, Lance was taking most of the shots, and he was doing complicated backflips to avoid them.

“Hah!” Lance crooned.  “Nevermind, who needs practice?  I’ve got this.”

Keith snorted. “You could have just moved out of the way instead of all that nonsense.”

“Uh, it was cool?” Lance shot back.  “I’d like to see you try it, and- ah!”  He jolted forward, avoiding another shot.  “Princess!”

“Don’t get distracted,” Allura scolded, but there was definitely a smug element to her voice.  Next she fired at Yellow and Green at once, and then at Red.

Shiro was still sitting there, waiting.

So much for trusting him.

Grinding his teeth, Shiro flew the Black Lion over, hovering protectively in front of Lance.  “I’ll be a distraction while you four regroup.”

“Regroup for what?” Pidge asked, but Shiro ignored that.  Instead he slammed the controls forward, flying full-speed at the Castle of Lions.  If Allura wasn’t going to target him purposefully, then Shiro was going to  _ make _ her have to.

Allura blinked.  “You-”  But then her eyes narrowed, and the beams of light started to shoot toward Shiro, trying to knock him off course.

Rather than move out of the way, Shiro focused on avoiding the shots with as little movement as possible.  They blasted post the Black Lion, only feet away, and he continued to spiral down closer to the turret.  He’d mime taking it out, and prove once and for all they didn’t have to treat him with kid gloves, dammit.

Except the cannon paused, glowing, before shooting out a blast that was far weaker than the rest, but spread out farther than any of the others.

One that Shiro couldn’t dodge so easily.

Automatically, he tried to slam up, but he undercompensated for his arm again.  For a moment, his mind stuttered in surprise - why wasn’t his arm where it should be? - and Black failed to move in time

That was just enough of a distraction to let the wave of force hit Shiro dead on.

Around Shiro, the Black Lion’s screens flashed, then cut out as the surge cut power.

For just a moment, he was left in pure darkness.

“Shiro, are you-”

“What happened?  Everything okay, Shiro?”

“Shrio!”

_ “Shiro!” _

_ “Where are you?” _

_ “Why aren’t you helping?” _

_ “We need you.” _

_ “Shiro!” _

_ “Why did you abandon us?” _

The lights came back on within seconds, and a purr rolled through Shiro’s head, filling it so loudly the memories were drowned out.

“Thank you, Black,” Shiro murmured, leaning his head back against the pilot’s chair.  He took several deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart.

Afraid of the dark.  Shiro was still afraid of the dark.

How old was he, again?

Shiro tapped the screen, reactivating the comm link.  “I’m here, sorry about that.  The blast knocked my systems offline for a second, but everything’s fine.”

“Good,” Hunk sighed, relief dripping from his voice.  “It looked like- well, I’m glad we don’t have to carry the Black Lion in, that would have been difficult.  You’re sure everything’s fine?”  There was just a hint of something impatient, and Shiro suspected Hunk was barely holding back his ‘I told you so’s.

To be fair, he  _ had _ told Shiro so.

Shiro nodded and resisted the urge to scrub over his face. “All back online, it was just for a moment.”

“What about you?” Keith asked, voice quiet.  “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.  I just surprised myself.  Honest.”

There was another rumble, this one reproachful, but Shiro shoved the presence away.  The Black Lion should know better.  The team needed someone calm and in control leading them -  _ someone who’s men will follow them without question _ , Allura had said.  Someone who they could trust and believe in during hard times.

Shiro wasn’t that person, but he could fake it.  Not only for them, but for himself.  

He needed their faith in him.

“I think it’s time to head back inside,” Allura said carefully.  “We know you can fly if absolutely need be, but for now we’ll focus on getting your new arm ready.  It will only take a few days.”

Nodding jerkily, Shiro took a deep breath.  “You’re right.  We’re coming in.”

With that, he turned Black back toward his hangar and shut off the comms.  Once they landed, he stood and took off the helmet - which was much harder with only one hand. 

Then Shiro turned and threw it at the wall.

There was a nudge, like someone was pressing against his side.  Shiro took a deep breath and dropped his arm, letting Black’s presence stay beside him for just a moment.

“I’m sorry I got you hit,” he finally admitted, eyes falling closed.

Another rumble ran through him, and there was a flickering press.  The Black Lion was fine.  That had not been a full blast, and it had simply startled Black, much in the same way the lack of an arm had .

“It’s a little different,” Shiro murmured.  “But thank you.”  With that, he moved to pick up his helmet, and took a moment just to breath and straighten himself back up.

Then he stepped down the ramp and back to the rest of the group. There would be questions, and well meaning stares, and worries, and Shiro would put up with them as best he could.

It was the only thing Shiro could do.

***

“Hey.” 

Shiro looked up and managed a smile for Keith.  “Hey to you too.”

It wasn’t a surprise that someone came after him  Shiro had been quiet for most of the debriefing, as much as he tried to act normal.  They were all officially grounded from missions until Shiro’s arm was fixed, unless something truly awful happened.  At that point, the other four would try to go without him.

There wasn’t really much disagreeing with that.  Yes, Shiro could fly if need be, but until those moments of distraction could be fatal in the field.  

Honestly, it would have been easier to take if Shiro’s arm flat out kept him from flying.  Then it would be a simple medical problem.  Frustrating, yes, but not the maybe-almost-not-quite that Shiro existed in now. He could fly, but he wasn’t allowed to because of his stupid, distractible mistakes.  Shiro just didn’t have the control.

It was a deeply bitter pill to swallow, and so Shiro had disappeared as soon as he was able.

Unfortunately, disappeared meant ‘holed up in the rec room’, since his room was still too quiet and dark for his tastes.  It was all too easy to track him down.

Apparently Keith had been chosen to talk to him.

Sitting down next to him on the couch, Keith sighed.  “I’m guessing you don’t actually want to talk about this.”

“No,” Shiro replied shortly.  He grabbed his blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders like a cloak, or his armor.  “I really don’t.”

“Everyone seems to think you should,” Keith replied.  “But I don’t think making you is going to do you any good.  Seems more like people have been taking your choices away for too long.”

It was painfully astute.  Shiro winced, but couldn’t argue the point.

Nodding, Keith sighed.  “So we don’t have to talk, but I’m going to stick around for a bit.  If I go right back, they’ll just send someone else.”  He paused, head tilted.  “Do you know any card games you can play one handed?”

The question made Shiro pause, actually giving it thought.  “Um... I think I could play War, actually.”

Nodding, Keith leaned over and picked up the deck of cards that Lance had gifted Shiro, right after they got him out of the room.  He shuffled them in his lap, glancing up at him.  “No cracks about waterfall shuffles or any of the rest of that crap?”

“Can’t do it either right now,” Shiro pointed out dryly.  “I can’t even do a regular shuffle.  Otherwise I wouldn’t let you do it.  Do you  _ have _ to bend my cards so much?”

Keith rolled his eyes, well used to the complaining.  “These are thick enough to stand up to any arm Pidge, Hunk and Coran can cook up for you.  I’m not sure I could bend them out of shape if I wanted to.”  He started to pass the cards out, alternating between both of them.  “You ever break out the cards on the way to Kerberos?”

“Oh, yeah.  Once or twice.  Honestly, though, we ended up being pretty busy.”  Shiro leaned against the back of the couch, eyes soft as he remembered.  “And it went really poorly when we tried using my deck.”

Laughing, Keith shook his head.  “I told you.”

“No, you said my showing off would be a problem.  The tricks weren’t the hard part.  Wherever I flicked the cards, they went.  Actually, Matt and I got pretty good at card throwing there for a bit.”  Shiro smiled at his lap, nostalgic at the warm memory.  Just under it was the bitter twinge that only Shiro was free now, so far as they knew.  “The hard part was trying to keep track of the rest of the deck.  You couldn’t just sit it down on the table.  It always turned into 52 card pick-up at the end.”

“Sounds about right.”  Keith smiled softly and dropped the last card into his own pile.  “Ready?”

Shiro nodded. “3... 2... 1... Go!”  They both flipped over their cards - a 4 of clubs for Shiro, and a Jack of diamonds for Keith.

Sighing, Shiro watched Keith take the cards.  “This is going to go poorly for me, I think.”

“It’s one round.  Don’t be dramatic yet.”

“I know your luck, Keith.”  They flipped over the next set, and he groaned as Keith’s queen took his ten.  “Yup.  I’m boned.”

Keith huffed.  “Then just take the loss and quit whining about it.”

Shrugging, Shiro shot him a pout.  “I don’t like losing.”

“Then get good.”

Barking out a laugh, Shiro shook his head.  “You’re spending too much time around Pidge and Lance.”

They went through several more flips.  Shiro only won one of them, and all the rest went to Keith.  War was supposed to be a long game, but it also wasn’t designed with Keith in mind.

“So, hey,” Keith finally said, glancing up at him.  “I know we’re not talking about it, and I’m definitely not asking if you’re fine or anything.  But is there anything we can do?  With your arm.  Obviously we’re not going to walk in front of you and open every door or whatever, but... I dunno, if there’s something we’re doing because we’re not thinking about it, you can say so.”

Shiro shook his head.  “Honestly, no, you’ve been fine.  The most useful thing is that Hunk has been thoughtful about what he makes for dinner.  The rest of it is on me.”  He glanced at Keith through his bangs, sighing as Keith’s 5 managed to win over Shiro’s 3.  “You guys shouldn’t worry about this stuff.”

“Yeah, that’s going to happen.  We worry because we care about you.  And because- Shiro, you were gone.  For two days, we couldn’t get to you, all because we were to slow to turn around on a planet we were supposed to be safe on.  So maybe we’re hovering a little, but it’s because we’re glad to have you back.”

Pausing, Shiro considered that.  He tried to imagine how he’d feel if one of them were scooped up and locked away and he couldn’t stop it.

His brain stuttered out on the idea, returning only denials. Shiro would bring the building down around him if it meant keeping them safe.  It was one of those ugly things in him that he didn’t want the team to see, but it was there.  Shiro would kill to get them free, even if the danger wasn’t lethal.  Even if it hadn’t been-

Even if it wasn’t the room.  But especially if it was.

Shiro shivered as the memory pressed down on him.

Okay, this was getting out of hand.  He needed to do something about this fear, and soon.

“I understand,” Shiro finally replied.  “And I appreciate the concern. I do.  But at the end of the day, there’s not much you can do.  Unless you want to follow me around and open jars for me.”

Keith met Shiro’s eyes, his own gaze steady and clear.  “I’ll do that if you want.”

Lips pressed thin, Shiro shook his head.  “I would prefer you didn’t.  But this?  This is good.”

Nodding, Keith sighed.  “Alright.  But if you think of anything...”

“I’ll let you know,” Shiro replied.  They flipped again, and this time is 10 beat out Keith’s 4.  He pumped his fist and grinned, enjoying Keith’s eye roll.

No, there wasn’t much the others could do.  This wasn’t their fight, and Shiro didn’t want th hovering and the worry and the pity.

But maybe there was something that Shiro could do instead.

***

That night, Shiro stared up at the ceiling of the rec room, wrapped in two blankets, and holding the fidget toy Hunk had made for him.

Shiro was a grown ass adult.  He was a paladin of Voltron. He was the pilot of the Black Lion, the supposedly calm head under any circumstance.

Yet here he was, terrified to turn off the lights.

Rolling the toy between his fingers, Shiro sighed loudly.  “This is ridiculous,” he told himself.  His voice echoed slightly in the large room.  “You can’t do this forever.”

Hearing it out loud didn’t make the fear go away.

It never did.

Well, there was no helping it.  Shiro was going to have to go over this fear.  He couldn’t have a panic attack in the Black Lion every time the monitors turned off.  That didn’t touch the many, many circumstances in which they could end up in dark rooms while on missions.

Taking a deep breath, Shiro reached for his pad and brought up the light control program.  His fingers shook, and he clenched his hand into a tight fist until he could control it again.

Then he clicked off the lights.

There were so many things different about this moment.  Shiro was warm - overly so, even, between the temperature control of the castle and the two blankets.  He was comfortable, and the walls were farther away, and he could hear the rumbling of the ship’s engine.

Shiro’s heart still picked up, and every hair on his body stood up.

The darkness was wrong.  It hid grasping hands, and screams, and kept him from his team.  Haggar was here, and every slight noise was proof of it.  She was here, and he was going to be taken again, he needed to do something, he needed to make sure she couldn’t get her hands on him-

Shiro turned the lights back on.  He couldn’t even stop himself- it just happened.

It was only then that he realized how badly he was shaking, and that his vision was blurry with tears.

“Shit,” Shiro murmured, eyes clenched tightly shut.

After a moment, he opened them again.

Even that was too dark.

“You’re pathetic,” Shiro told the ceiling.

He tried twice more.  The first time, he lost his nerve and turned the lights back on immediately.  The second time, he managed over a minute, but nearly threw up for his efforts.

The few hours of sleep he got after were filled with grasping hands with probing fingers, digging inside the metal arm he didn’t have and controlling him with it.

Shiro woke from those with his cheeks wet.

After a solid hour of nervous tossing and turning, Shiro finally gave up.  It was still plenty of time before breakfast, and Shiro wasn’t going to sleep anymore.

The problem, he decided, was that Shiro couldn’t bring himself to keep the lights off for long enough.  Each time, survival instincts took over.

What Shiro needed was to take the control out of his hands.

He knew just who to give it to.  

***

“Good morning, Black,” Shiro called, stepping into the cockpit.

There wasn’t an audible response, but the screens jumped on even before he sat down - the Black Lion’s version of a warm, eager greeting.  There was a slight curiosity too, but this wasn’t the first time Shiro had come to Black at an odd hour.  It wouldn’t be the last, either.

Sitting back in the chair, Shiro looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath.  It was already dimmer in here than in most of the castle.  Not enough to set him off, but enough to make him tense.

“I need your help.”

There was a press in his mind, questioning.  Shiro opened himself up to it, pushing the memory of his decision and the night so far to the Black Lion.  It was easier than trying to explain it out loud, and Black would understand his motivations and needs better that way.

He expected agreement. Maybe even pride, for tackling the problem head-on.

Instead, the lights in the cockpit suddenly brightened, almost painfully so, and the controls greyed out and locked themselves up.

Shiro’s mouth fell open, and he grabbed onto the controls.  “Black.  No!  That’s- what are you doing?”

An error message flashed on the screen.

“Are you serious?”  Shiro flopped back in the seat and groaned.  “You know what’s at stake, here.  Do you want me to have a panic attack every time you so much as flicker the lights?”

The screen brightened another degree in response, nearly sulkily.

Shiro scowled right back.  “You can’t make guarantee it’ll always be light in here.  Look what happened yesterday!  And that’s not counting all the other times I might be in dark places.”

On screen, a notification showed the Black Lion’s eyes glowing brightly, like headlights.

“That’s not a solution and you know it,” Shiro snapped.  “Black.  This is important.”

The headlights turned off, but the screen stayed locked.

Shiro groaned and scrubbed his hands over his eyes.  He was already exhausted, and he wasn’t sure he had the patience to argue with an alien metal lion now.  “Please,” he finally sighed, letting out all his desperation into the word.  “This is important to me.  I can’t do this.  What if- What if I panic on a mission?  The flashbacks are bad enough.  At least for those I just lock up, usually.  This is...”

They could see him crying and flinching all from being in a too-dim room.  It was dangerous for Shiro to be so vulnerable, but it was also mortifying.

He wasn’t sure which bothered him more.

“I’ll put them and myself in danger if I go back into the field like this,” Shiro said, voice low and rough.  “I can’t do that to them.  I can’t lead them like this.  So please.  I’m asking for your help.  If it’s too much, you can turn the lights back on.  But I need to do this.”

There was a long pause.

Then the screens unlocked and went blank.

“Thank you,” Shiro murmured.  He pushed his sincerity down to Black, and got a gentle press in return.  It felt like something heavy draped over his shoulders, comforting without physically weighing him down.

Closing his eyes, Shiro took a breath.  “Okay.  Now, turn off the lights, and leave it for ten minutes.  No matter what.”  Just ten minutes.  That was nothing.  That was no time at all.

There was another pause, this one even longer, like the Black Lion was considering backing out.

But then the cockpit went pitch black.

Shiro was alone in a tiny, dark room again.

This time, there was no couch, no soft blankets, nothing but the metal under his hands-

_ The metal under his palm, fingernails scraping as he fought, strained- _

The room was small, claustrophobic, only a few steps from wall to wall-

_ Ten steps.  Counting it off, one, two three- _

He was trapped in here, he was locked away and forgotten, it was so cold-

_ His teeth chattered until his jaw ached, until the chill made a home in his bones, until he couldn’t relax his muscles for shivering- _

It was quiet, it was-

A purr.

Shiro flinched from the noise, too close, too sudden.  It was familiar, but so were the claws, so was the table below him, so was the fanged smile and the glowing eyes.

The darkness hid everything Shiro was afraid of, the monsters that had torn him apart and remade him as he pleased, had rearranged his insides until he was theirs.

This was just another creature he had to fight.

Shiro bounded to his feet, raising his arms.  Only one responded properly, the other not reaching quite the right spot.  It didn’t feel right, didn’t have the weight he expected.  Shiro stumbled back a step, and his hip hit hard, unforgiving metal.

He went down, his back hitting the ground.  When he tried to scramble up, his right hand couldn’t find purchase, failing to grab on or dig in to help him up.  Instead he kicked and jerked, clumsy from the scare, trying to get away-

The purr again, quieter this time.  Nearly gentle.

A trick.  A trick of this room, or of Haggar, or of anyone of the other threats that lurked in his head.  Another not-real thing that left him paralyzed and scared, left him looking into the faces of his team and thinking  _ I can’t help you enough. _

One last rumble, nearly fearful, nearly panicked.  A pressure somewhere to Shiro’s side- he lashed out with his right arm, and cried out when it smacked hard against the metal wall (console?).

Wait.

That was the solution.  Last time that had saved him, it had protected the arm, it had kept him from Haggar to break himself until she didn’t want her toy anymore.

Shiro raised his right arm again, bringing the stub down with the full intent to bash it onto the metal-

_ A roar. _

The sheer volume of it made Shiro jolt, nearly coming off the floor completely with the strength of his fear.  He whirled, ducked down, covered his head.

He knew there was a monster here, one in the dark with him to fight, there always was.  Shiro was never alone, not really, not when so many things lurked in his head to sink their claws in.  

Something pressed over his shoulders, nearly draping.  Warm.

Shiro flinched from it and tightened up, pressing his face into his knees.

Now, through the thin material of his pants, Shiro could feel that his cheeks were soaked, and his breath was coming in short, wet sobs.

The pressure pulled away like it was flinching from him.  Like it hurt to touch him and make him flinch.

A rumble ran through Shiro, and this time he only curled in tighter, no longer able to fight and move away.

Instead, he felt a presence. A feeling, shaped into words.

_ I’m sorry. _

The room shifted under Shiro’s feet, raising slightly.  Both arms braced against the floor, the stub just resting against the cold metal, the other clinging for dear life.

Then-

Light.

It came from behind him.  Squinting through his burning eyes, Shiro looked back and saw the pilot’s chair, saw the Black Lion’s storage compartments, and back to the ramp that lead to the mouth.

He was-

Shiro was-

Someone stepped up the ramp.

Allura paused, squinting through the dim room.  It took her a good few seconds to realize that the lump on the room was, in fact, Shiro.

Even the small amount of light filled in the details for her.  Shiro’s face and clothes were no doubt a mess.  He was still in his pajamas and completely rumpled, made worse by his hysterics the last few minutes (hours?).  The sleeve had once been rolled up, but now it gaped empty over his right arm, draping all over the dirty floor.

“Shiro?” Allura asked, voice very gentle.  “Are you-?” 

She cut herself off, because the answer was obvious.

Shiro was not okay.

“What are you doing here?” Shiro finally asked.  He stood, bracing his left hand on the pilot’s chair as he stood on shaky feet.  If Allura asked him to take a step, Shiro wasn’t sure he could have held his own weight.

Biting on her bottom lip, Allura took a deep breath.  “A notification woke me.  The Black Lion was giving off a distress signal.”

Damn.

Really?  The lion had woken the  _ princess? _  Why not just let Shiro get through it?  Why not call someone else?  Not-

Not the closest thing Shiro had to a commanding officer.

Not the person whose opinion of him was most damning.

Not the person responsible for grounding him if he couldn’t lead anymore.

Shiro’s left hand tightened into a fist as he mentally jabbed the Black Lion.  Why?  What had he done to be deserve this betrayal?

He got a feeling like rolled eyes and a shove to the center of his back in return.

Allura took a deep breath, then stepped forward.  Looking down, Shiro realized she was barefoot, and winced. It must be cold in this room, and uncomfortable without even socks in the way.

Reaching out, Allura hesitated right before her hand touched Shiro’s shoulder.  He didn’t blame her.  Right now he was a sweaty, gross mess.  Shiro had to look half-wild to her eyes.

“May I?” She asked, voice gentle and soft.

Shiro swallowed.  “You don’t have to,” he finally replied.  “But it won’t hurt me.”

Setting her jaw, Allura narrowed her eyes, then finally touched.  Her palm felt nearly burning hot against him, just as it had when she’d first carried him out of that room.

Well, at least Shiro didn’t look as bad as he had then.

“What were you doing here, Shiro?”  Allura finally asked.  “What caused the Black Lion to alert me?”

Shiro winced again.  “I was-” he scrambled for an explanation that would satisfy her.  If she’d just caught him here by chance, he could have said it was practice during an insomnia bout.  But that the Black Lion had actually ratted him out-

There was another huff, this one less fond, and another of those mental shoves.

“I was...”  Shiro sighed.  “Since I got out of that room, you’re aware I haven’t been... comfortable in the dark?  I thought by subjecting myself to it and realizing it wouldn’t hurt me again, I could overcome that.  On Earth we call it immersion therapy.”

Allura pressed her lips thin.  “I see,” she replied.  “If I were to ask Pidge or Hunk about this, they would agree?”

Holding himself tight to keep from guiltily shifting, Shiro nodded.  “Yes, they would.”

Maybe.  In a very academic way.

“And you did not think to tell anyone about this experiment, or to wait till morning?”

This time, Shiro ducked his head.  “It was hardly a risk. I asked the Black Lion to turn off the lights for a few minutes, that’s all.”

“That’s all,” Allura repeated, drawing the words out.  “But that still required the Black Lion to summon me.”

Shiro sighed.  “Black was being overprotective.  I’m fine.”

Slowly, Allura drew her hand back, and she stared up at him in something like dismay.  “You trust us so little?”

“I-”’ Shiro’s mouth fell open.  “No.  What are you talking about?”

Allura’s gaze didn’t faulter in the least.  “You don’t trust our help.  You don’t trust us with your vulnerabilities, not when you can help it.”

That-

That wasn’t true.

Maybe parts of it, but Shiro trusted them.  He trusted them all every time he stepped into the Black Lion.

Except for this time.

Shiro closed his eyes.  “This was something I could handle myself,” he finally replied, fighting to keep his voice steady.  “I didn’t need to bother anyone else.  And it was best handled privately.”

“Why?”

Somehow, Shiro hadn’t expected that to be what Allura asked.  He frowned at her and gave a tiny shrug.  “Because then I could just do it without worry,” he replied, the honest words slipping out.  “If the others were here, they’d see me- well, momentarily not acting like a Black Paladin should.”

Allura reached up further, this time cupping Shiro’s jaw.  The gentle touch still made him flinch, startled.  

“It would not harm our opinion of you, to see you scared.  To be the Black Paladin is not to be fearless.”

Shiro shook his head.  “It’s to be calm.  It’s to have a plan.  It’s to be inspire actions, to be someone they can trust and turn to.  I can’t be that and...”

Brows jumping up, Allura put her other hand on her hips.  “Are you suggesting you know the role of the Black Paladin better than I do?”

Immediately, Shiro paused, eyes wide.  “No.  No!  Of course not!  I just mean-”

“You’re wrong.  You can be afraid and still be trusted.  Do you trust me less, for seeing me wounded over the destruction of my father’s AI?”  Allura raised her jaw challengingly, daring him to give the wrong answer.

Shiro shook his head, nearly knocking Allura’s hand away in the process.  “No!  I would never.”

“Then why do you not give us the same credit?”

Leaning more heavily against the pilot chair, Shiro opened his mouth, then paused.

It was different when it was him.

Why?

“I don’t like it,” he finally admitted.  “I don’t want you to see.”

Allura rubbed her thumb along Shiro’s jaw, warm and gentle.  “If we see, we can help.  You do not fail as a leader to ask for a hand up, Shiro.  You become a stronger one for it, rather than struggling by yourself.  Did this ‘immersion’ help you?”

Shivering, Shiro took a deep breath. “No.”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Allura repeated.  “I mean that  _ literally. _  You survived that room, and you kept your head as much as possible.  You made reasonable actions based on the information you had.  But you can do more, now.  You have your team and resources, including me.  Please, we want you to let us.”

Shiro took a deep breath, his fingers digging into the seat.  “I don’t- I don’t know how to...”

Asking for help was outside of Shiro’s vocabulary.

“I’m going to grow now,” Allura told him.  “And I’m going to hug you.  Then, if you like, we can sit down, and we can try to turn off the lights again.”

Immediately, Shiro tensed up so tightly it felt like he’d snap in half.  “I should probably- I mean, you don’t have to be here for that, but you’re right I should do it, and-”

Allura sighed and put her hand over Shiro’s mouth.  She didn’t actually touch, just held the cup over until he trailed off on his own. “No, I take it back.  Not this morning.  Later.  But I’m still going to get big and give you a hug.  Is that a problem?”

“No,” Shiro admitted, muttered out like a schoolboy confession.

Smiling, Allura stepped forward and grew.  Soon, Shiro only reached her chin, so when she wrapped around him, he could easily rest his forehead on her shoulder.

Allura was so warm and solid under him, so very different from the cold metal.

“You did well so far,” Allura murmured, holding him tightly.  “You’ve made it this far.  Let us help the next step.  You don’t have to do it alone.  You have a team.  That goes both ways, you know.”

Taking a wet breath, Shiro nodded.  He slammed his eyes shut, because he still didn’t want to cry in front of Allura.  He didn’t want to cry in front of everyone.

“I don’t- I can’t... I can’t.  I have to be the Black Paladin.”

Allura paused, her hand still on the middle of Shiro’s back.  “Okay?  Were you thinking of not being a paladin anymore?”

Shaking his head, Shiro held on tighter.  Now that he was feeling warmer, the exhaustion of his terrible night was starting to weigh him down.  “No. I need it.  But I have to be good at it.”

That was nonsense, and Shiro knew his babbled jumble of words didn’t link together properly, not really.

But Allura held him tighter, fingers digging in.  “Oh, Shiro, no.  We’re not going to take it from you.  The Black Lion chose you, and I don’t have a say in it anymore.  You do an amazing job, and we’re thankful for how you lead and the stability you provide.  But you can be more than that.  You aren’t just the model of a Black Paladin, to be taken out and the put away as needed.  You’re Shiro, and you’re just as worthy of the team’s support.”

Shiro shivered.  “I can’t lead like this.  The Galra ships are so dark. I’m useless.”

“Shiro, if you decided to spend the next decade sitting around in the control room and eating Hunk’s food, you still wouldn’t be useless.  Your worth isn’t solely determined by your function as a paladin.  But if you’re worried, let us help.  You don’t have to be afraid.  We’ll support you.”

Finally, slowly, Shiro nodded.  “Okay.”

They stood like that, clinging to each other.  “You know, “Shiro murmured.  “If I can’t hide behind being the Black Paladin, you can’t hide because you’re the Princess.”

His answer was stiff, stunned silence.

Immediately, Shiro winced and started to pull back, eyes wide.  “That was- I’m sorry, it’s been a long night.  I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

But Allura let out a snort - a deeply un-Princess-y snort.  “Don’t apologize now.  You’re right, anyway.  I’m being something of a hypocrite at the moment.”  She let him pull away, resting her hands on his shoulder instead.  “How about this.  If you ask for help when you need it and reach out, so will I.  I understand if you aren’t always comfortable sharing with the other paladins.  The chain of command is important to you.  But you can come to me, and I’ll do the same for you.  Deal?”

Shrio stared at Allura, eyes wide.  Then, slowly, he relaxed and smiled.

That he could work with.  That was even.  It was a  _ deal, _ not one-sided dumping.

“I’d like that,” he admitted.

Allura beamed back.  “Good.  Now, I think you need to be horizontal soon.  You look about ready to fall over.”

“Only because I’m about ready to fall over.”  Shiro took a deep breath.  “And I could use help getting out of the lion.”

That earned him a brilliant smile.  “I believe I can do that.”  With barely a grunt, Allura lifted Shiro into her arms and started to walk back out.

Not what Shiro had meant.  Not even a little.

But not unpleasant, either.

“I’ll tell the others not to expect you at breakfast,” Allura said.  “You should spend the morning resting.  There won’t be training, and Pidge and Hunk will be working on your arm for testing in the afternoon.”

All true.  “How about you send Coran a message and miss breakfast yourself.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sleep in.”  Shiro arched a brow at him. “If we’re being even.”

Allura narrowed her eyes.  “I am going to regret this deal.  Fine, you make a good point.  I’ll send the message tonight and extend my alarm.  Will you be alright in the rec room?”

“I’ll leave the lights on this time,” Shiro agreed.  “And I’m too tired to dream, I think.”

The door to the rec room opened.  Allura sat Shiro down, then gave him a smile.  “Good.  I wish you pleasant dreams.  If they remain elusive, I wish you few.”

“You as well, Princess,” Shiro replied.

As he settled in for the night - or, morning, really - Shiro wondered what he’d gotten himself into.

But he felt the smug presence of the Black Lion, content with the night’s work, and figured it couldn’t be a bad thing.

***

“Okay, try and make a fist?”

Shiro tried.  Slowly, the fingers of the new prosthetic came together.  It was still a little jerky, moving robotically and it lacked the fluid grace of his old right arm.

Then again, this one was in one piece, and not made by the Galra.  That was a significant improvement.

Coran nodded thoughtfully.  “Adapting this for human neural pathways is certainly a challenge. But one I think we can overcome quickly.  Now try raising it?”

It took a bit more effort than he was used to, but Shiro was able to hold the prototype arm over his head. 

When he brought it back down, Pidge nearly dove over the table.  Her hands gently grasped the arm, checking over the panels with the save near-frantic energy she typed on a keyboard.  “How’s it feel?”  Her eyes darted up to his face, unusual in the midst of a tech-binge, and she bit her bottom lip.

By ‘it’, Shiro thought she also meant ‘you’.

Ignoring that for the moment, Shiro shrugged his other shoulder.  “Heavy.  There’s a bit of lag.”

“Right now, it’s working by detecting your muscle movements, and translating that into action,” Hunk told him.  He glanced back at the display, which was currently flashing code and stats and charts so quickly that Shiro had no idea how any of them were keeping up.  “So it’s a little delayed, and it’s not quite balanced to you yet.  When we actually attach it to your nervous system it should be pretty seamless.”

“We’ll adjust the systems to counterbalance then,” Pidge agreed.  “This one is actually way lighter than your other one.  Like, a third the weight.”

Really?  It felt heavier right now.  But then, it wasn’t compensating for its weight at the moment, and it wasn’t dragging him to the table.  Shiro flexed the fingers again, curious.  

Wait, it wasn’t just his palm.  Running a finger over the raised platforms on the palm, Shiro tilted his head.  “What are these?”

“They serve a few functions,” Coran told him.  “Let’s try this, actually.  Try to concentrate on lighting the arm, but not on making it a weapon.”

Shiro blinked uncomprehendingly at Coran.  Lighting his arm  _ made _ it a weapon.

Finally, he looked back down, brow furrowing as he thought on Coran’s words.  He tensed like he always would, and-

And just the little pads lit up a cheerful yellow, with none of the heat.

Shiro’s mouth fell open.

“Numbers two and five were very specific about the design,” Coran informed him dryly.  “I assume you have some understanding of why?”

Holding his hand up to them, Shiro fought to close his mouth.  “You gave my arm  _ cat pads?” _

Pidge grinned, unrepentant, as Hunk blushed.  

“They were a good compromise for what we wanted to do.  They can light up, and they can be magnetized to help you stick to walls.  You know, whenever you feel like climbing up them.  Which is often.”  Pidge waggled her brows in a distinctly Lance-like manner.

Clearly, this was an attempt to relax Shiro.  They all knew he’d stayed in bed all morning, and Shiro wasn’t sure what Allura had told them.  He suspected it was the truth.

But regardless, he appreciated the easy atmosphere.  It didn’t calm all of Shiro’s nerves, especially in such an experimental setting, but it-

It was better than the alternative, anyway.

“I guess it could be worse,” Shiro replied.  “As long as I don’t have the ears, too.”

Coran huffed.  “Feline ears?  They might be an improvement.  Less round.”

Expression going flat, Shiro glanced at Coran.  “Maybe I could go with claws as well.  Scratch up the pods when someone wants to talk bad about humans.”

“You’ll be buffing those scratches out,” Coran shot back, jabbing Shiro in the shoulder with a stern finger.

Hunk tilted his head.  “Actually, claws are possible, if you’re being serious.”

Mouth open, Shiro paused, then leaned back in his chair.

It was so damn odd to be asked his opinion about the arm.  The Galra obviously never had, just bolting it on without so much as a warning.  Even now, Shiro had expected them to just pop it on, run some tests, and send him on his way.

“Not yet,” Shiro finally replied.  “I don’t think it’s useful to focus on just the fingertips when I usually use the whole hand.  Besides, there’s only so far I want to push the cat theme.  The pads are enough.”  He wiggled his fingers and finally turned it off, running his fingers over the sleek, white metal. “Is the yellow just for flashlight mode?”

Pidge shook her head.  “Nope, that’s typical.”

Unable to help it, Shiro crinkled his nose.  “No offense to you, Hunk, but I don’t think yellow is exactly my color.”  He considered, head tilted.  “Can it be the same blue as the Altean tech in the castle?”

“Sure,” Hunk replied, thankfully not looking offended at all.  “The yellow was just warmer.  We thought it might be better.”

Coloring slightly, Shiro nodded.  Yellow, the opposite of Galra purple.  An understandable choice, just not one that Shiro wanted to see that often.

A few clicks on a laptop later, Hunk nodded to him.  “Try it again.”

“Can I turn it on all the way?”

Coran nodded and waved him on.  “Please.”

This time, the whole hand lit the bright, crystalline blue of Altean tech.

Something about the color was soothing in a way the yellow couldn’t manage.   This arm didn’t look anything like the Galra made.  Instead, it looked like Shiro had picked it up from somewhere in the castle, left in storage somewhere on the lower decks.

“I like it,” he admitted, voice soft.  

When Shiro looked up, the other three were all busily looking at one screen or another, pointedly giving him a moment.

He really did have a great team.

“So,” he said, managing real cheer.  “Should we test it on something?  What do you want me to cut in half?”

Pidge sighed dreamily.  “I love those words.  C’mon, we have a few materials for you to test on.”  She popped up, practically scrambling for the back of the lab.  Coran followed after at a much more sedate pace, but he was watching her with completely fondness and pride.

On the other hand, Hunk stood and waited for Shiro to get it.  “Hey.  Just so you know, if you need time, that’s alright.  We’ve tested what we need to for the rest of the day.”

Flinching from the sympathy in his eyes, Shiro nodded.  “I’m okay.  And I mean that honestly, right now.  This isn’t nearly as bad as it could have been.”

Hunk hesitated, then nodded.  “Okay.  I’ll trust you on that.  Just one more thing.  Only cause- you know, I get parts of it.  Not all of it, but some.  Because I get the...”  He traited off, making a frantic, jittery motion with his hand.

Hunk got being anxious.  Swallowing, Shiro nodded his understanding.

“Yeah.  Um.  I figured surprises now aren’t the best thing?  But Lance was excited and I couldn’t talk him about of it.  So just act surprised?  He has something planned for after this.”

Shiro took a deep breath, then let it out.  “What kind of something?”

Offering a smile, Hunk shrugged.  “Nothing bad.  Just... it might help.”

Dammit.  Shiro still didn’t want them to help.  He didn’t want them to feel like they had to, and he didn’t like that he knew they needed it.

But he’d promised Allura, and Shiro trusted them.  He did.  He had to.

So he’d given this a chance.

“Alright,” Shiro finally allowed, sighing.  

Hunk smiled and patted him on the back, right between his shoulder blades.  “It seems like it’ll be fun.  I hope you’ll like it.”

Not much chance of that, but Shiro managed a smile anyway.  He’d do this because he needed to, and because it was a long term benefit.  Not because he personally enjoyed the vulnerability.  “Okay.  I appreciate it.”

“No, you don’t,” Hunk replied.  “Well, okay, you do, kinda, but you don’t like it.  But- just give it a shot.”

There wasn’t anything Shiro could say to that except what he had already, so he nodded.  Instead he focused ahead on the table piled high with materials.

“So,” Pidge started, voice nearly chipper with excitement.  “You could just pick this stuff up and squeeze, but that’s not so much fun.  I could also throw it up in the air and you could chop it on the way down.”

Shiro paused, surprised.  That was... unscientific.

But Pidge’s gaze was bright and her smile was downright shark-like.  There was the usual jittery excitement of a new toy to play with, but there was something else.

Something hopeful.

No matter what Lance was planning, and whether or not it would work, Pidge had her own idea.  As usual.

And if those ideas were an outlet for some energy and aggression in a very helpful way, well, that was just clever.  Also as usual.

Stepping back, Shiro activated the arm.  “Underhanded throws,” he decided.  “My reaction time on this isn’t going to be great.”

Pidge cackled and picked up the first item.  It looked like some kind of book, though it was old and beaten, nearly falling apart.  From the professional looking Altean on the front, it was probably some kind of almanac or ledger.  It was also extremely thick.

Basically, it was a phonebook.

Snorting, Shiro slid into a fighting stance.  “Ready,” he called.

Pidge took the book in both hands, swinging it between her knees and throwing it up high.

Shiro swiped it out of the air, and the pages exploded around them in a satisfying rain of singed paper.  

Grinning too now, Shiro glanced at Coran.  “That wasn’t anything important, was it?”

“One of those was circulated around the castle every few weeks, and no one ever had the place to put it,” Coran replied, snorting.  He pulled on a pair of goggles “Frankly, it’s a joy to see one treated in such a manner.  Pidge, if you would, the figurine next.  It should shatter very satisfyingly.”

That one, Shiro missed because he was laughing too hard.

He got it the second time, though.

***

An hour of destruction later, the arm was popped back off (weird), and Shiro was shuffled away to shower off all the plaster and debris.  He went without any fuss, eager to be clean.

The water drummed gloriously into Shiro’s sore shoulders.  After a few days of not using a heavy metal arm, he was going to have to adjust again. Or maybe not, if the weight compensation mechanism worked as advertised.  

It still felt nice. Satisfying.  Shiro would rather shower away the pain of a day well spent then laze around uselessly all day.

Tilting his head up, Shiro let the hot water run over his face, taking several deep breaths.

He felt-

He felt better.

He had all day.

Much as he hated to admit it, part of that was the release of emotions.  He had never really let himself feel the fear and horror of the room since getting out.  There had been a few minutes under a blanket, Pidge and Keith there but not commenting, but that had been the tip of the iceberg.

In the end, his gambit with the lion had worked.  Shiro had screamed and cried and freaked out, but it had come out.  And then Allura had seen him in that state and hadn’t immediately declared him a failure of a Black Paladin and told him he wasn’t allowed to lead anymore.  Instead, she’d validated him.  It was  _ okay. _

Same as when Allura had said destroying the arm was the right call.

That was why he felt better. Shiro was  _ validated. _

It was strange, how much of a difference it made.

Or maybe it was just getting some sleep.

Shiro stood under the water, giving him time to simply enjoy it.  His hair plastered back, and the steam filled his lungs, warming him from the inside.

Reaching out with the left arm - he was starting to remember - Shiro shut off the water and stepped back out into the shared paladin bathroom.

Where his neatly folded clothes had been, now there was a pair of pajamas.  They were soft and thick, with the pattern of the Black Lion’s face all over them.  Shiro picked them up, brows raised blandly.

Yeah, this had Lance written all over it.

Putting those aside before he could wet them, Shiro picked up his towel.  A note fluttered out of it and landed on the floor in a puddle.

Shiro made a face as he picked it up, squinting hard to read the spread ink.

_ ‘Come to the rec room after, or we’ll eat all these tasty snacks without you.  No working! >:(’  _

Very, very Lance.

Sighing, though not without a fond smile, Shiro dried off and stepped into the pajamas.

They were nearly plush, like wearing a very soft bathrobe or laying in a pile of stuffed animals.

However, they were also short sleeved.

Shiro frowned at that, tugging vainly on the edges as if he could make them cover more.  The right sleeve cut off just over the edge of his stump, covering it completely, but it did nothing for the jagged, twisted lines of scars along Shiro’s left arm.

When Shiro glanced in the mirror, he did a double take.

He hadn’t seen himself in short sleeves in literally years now.  Even on the Kerberos mission, everything had covered him completely.

Combined with the silly pattern, the pajamas made Shiro look  _ young. _

He stepped forward, reaching up to rest his fingertips against the glass.  Shiro’s reflection stared back, the confusion and shock making the effect worse.

Over time, Shiro had gotten used to his changed appearance.  He barely ever started at the white hair or his nose scar anymore.

Even with those features still there, he managed to look more like he had when he left for Earth.

Shiro’s fingers clenched against the cold glass, turning into a fist.  He braced his weight on it, taking a deep breath.

He looked too young to have survived everything Shiro had been through.

Shiro was in his twenties.  

Somehow, even he seemed to forget that, these days.

Giving one last attempt to pull the sleeve down farther, Shiro put the towel away.  Then he tucked his left arm against his chest, as if the loose fabric of the pajamas could hide it.  Giving a last sigh, Shiro gave up and started down the hall.

When he stepped into the rec room, it was already dim.

The couches had been pushed back nearly to the walls, and instead there was some sort of  _ structure, _ made of draped blankets and pillows.  Unlike the pillow forts of Shiro’s childhood, this was a huge, nearly lavish affair, more like a room of its own.

At the sound of the door, Lance stuck his head out the entrance and gave a cheerful wave.  He was wearing very similar pajamas to Shiro, his in neon blue.  “There you are!  Come check out your new digs.”

Shiro shook his head in bemusement, but stepped over.  Despite how large the fort was, the doorway was still low to the ground, and he had to actually crawl to get it.

By the time he got through, Shiro could feel his cheeks growing pink.  The pajamas, the pillow fort, moving around on his hands and knees - it made him feel like a child, in a way he wasn’t sure he enjoyed.

Inside, a little cramped together, was the entire team.  Coran was sitting on a small throne of pillows, looking very comfortable indeed.  By his feet, Allura leaned back and beamed as Hunk industriously braided her hair (and not very well: it seemed he’d overestimated the sheer volume, since he was having trouble holding all of it).  Pidge was fiddling with something in her lap, a screwdriver in hand and her tongue sticking out.  Behind her shoulder, Keith watched with open curiosity, though he shot Shiro a fond smile as he settled in.

“Ta-da!” Lance declared, throwing his arms wide.  “Welcome, to the Castle of Lance!”

Unable to help it, Shiro snorted.  Loudly.  “Did Hunk name it?”  It was his particular brand of bad puns.

Mouth falling open, Lance put a hand on his chest.  “No way!  That stroke of genius was all me, dude.  What do you think?”

Looking around again, Shiro gave a soft smile.  “I think you got a lot done in a few hours.”

“Well, Allura and Keith helped a little,” Lance replied.  “Just a little.  This much.”  He put his pointer and thumb as close together as he could without touching.  “More Allura.  Her being super tall was awesome.”

Glancing over at her, Shiro nodded.  “Yeah, it is pretty awesome.”

Allura ducked her head, not quite managing to hide her smile.  Behind her, Hunk groaned in frustration as her hair slid out of his grip.

“So,” Shiro finally said.  “This is very interesting.  But is there a goal here?”

“I was under the impression the structure was the goal,” Coran mused.  “The pride of building something out of non-architectural materials.”  He stroked his mustache.  “I admit, there’s a charm to it, though this would never hold up to an assault.”

Lance’s mouth dropped open. “No one will be assaulting the Castle of Lance!”  He declared.

Letting out a low groan, Pidge picked her head up.  “Lance, don’t make it tempting.  I like this fort, don’t do this to me.”

“I will sit on you.”

Shiro held up his hands before the bickering could escalate and actually become a threat to the fort.  “Goal?  Lance?”

“Does it have to have a goal?” Keith asked, brows up.  His gaze was way too direct, and Shiro looked away quickly.  “Can’t it just be what it is?”

Shiro shrugged, and his gaze flickered to Hunk.  “I guess it can be.  But it’s suspicious timing, is all.” 

Letting out a groan, Lance flopped back onto another lump of pillows.  “Well, part of it is fun.  You remember fun, right, Shiro?”

“I don’t recognize that word,” Shiro replied, utterly flat.  “Suddenly I don’t speak English anymore.”

“Oh, are the translators broken?” Hunk asked mildly.  “Shame, seems to be working for me.”

Shiro snorted.  “It’s a very localized break.  This exact spot.”

“Alright, alright.”  Lance rolled his eyes at them both.  “The other part is what Pidge is doing.  You done there?”

Pidge nodded and closed a panel.  “Yup.  Should be all patched in and ready to go.”

“Awesome!”  Lance beamed.  “Okay, okay, so here’s the really genius part.  I was poking around in some old files, right?  Being the curious and adventurous soul I am.  And I came across these old... well, they sounded like conversations.  So I asked Allura.”

Allura smiled, the sad, wistful expression she got when she remembered something fondly from Altea.  “Lance found a cache of old radio dramas.  They were quite fashionable for a time.”

Nodding, Lance gestured to the device.  Looking at it sideways, Shiro finally realized it was a stereo.  “Right!  And most of them weren’t- well, I mean, Allura thought they were funny, but you know how jokes are.  Translations kill them.”

Shiro nodded his completely understanding.  “And no cultural context.”

“Exactly.  But a couple of them were like... mystery stories?  Pretty cool ones, actually.  But the translations still weren’t all that good.  So instead, we re-recorded them for us.”

Shiro bit his bottom lip to fight off a smile.  “Who’s we?”

“Me, Allura, and Keith,” Lance announced proudly.

Oh, boy.  Allura could put on a diplomatic face when appropriate, but none of them were what Shiro would have called credible actors.

This was going to be  _ entertaining. _

“Coran did the foley work,” Pidge told him.  “It’s worth listening for that alone.”

Nodding serenely, Coran smiled.  “I do an excellent impression when called upon, you know.”

“There’s one catch,” Lance said.  “‘Cause, like, it’s better when you’re paying attention to just the sound, right?  So we’re going to listen with the lights off.”

There it was.

Shiro took a deep breath, looking around one more time.

In the dark.  In a small space.

But this time surrounded by softness and warmth, wearing something so plush it felt like a toy.  While there was noise to focus on- specifically, his friends’ voices telling a story.

Slowly, Shiro closed his eyes and nodded.  “Okay.  Makes sense.”

“If you need the lights on so you can find snacks or whatever, just call for them.  The console is on voice command.”  Pidge watched him closely, head tilted.  “That good?”

Shiro bit his bottom lip again, but nodded.  “Yeah.  That’s good.”

“Excellent.”  Allura patted an empty patch on the blankets next to her.  As she did, Hunk finished up, tying a band around the bottom of her hair to hold the disaster of a braid in place.  “You should get comfortable.”

Once again, Shiro had to crawl to get over, but somehow the absurdity of it all was helping.  He was acting childish, yes.  But so was  _ everyone, _ and it felt less jarring when it wasn’t just Shiro standing out and vulnerable.

He flopped back on the pillows with a sigh.  A squeak sounded out, and Shiro jerked forward so Chulatt and Platt could climb out.  Chulatt wagged a paw at him, as if to say ‘watch where you’re going’.

“Sorry,” Shiro said, holding his hand up.  “I didn’t know you were in there.” And then, because they were already being childish-  “Allura told me to, blame her.”

The mice glanced at each other, chittering as they considered the argument.  Then Platt hopped into Shiro’s lap and sat back against his chest, squirming as they got comfortable.  A moment later, Chulatt joined them, and soon the two were cuddled up.

“I seem to be forgiven.”

Allura snorted.  “By throwing me under the booth.”

Clearing her throat, Pidge cleared her throat.  “Bus.”

“Oh, apologies.”  Allura paused.  “What is a bus?”

“A vehicle,” Shiro replied, smiling softly.  “A large transport automobile for a group of people.”

Allura considered that.  “I suppose to makes more sense,” she allowed, nearly sulky.  “Still, it’s very rude.”

“What’s rude,” Lance announced, his voice rising, “is delaying the premiere of the Castle of Lance Radio Show!”

Outright laughing, Shiro flapped his hand.  “Alright, alright, I’m ready.”

Pidge set down the stereo as Hunk glanced at Shiro, just for a moment.

As the show began, the lights cut off, casting them into complete darkness.

Immediately, Shiro shivered.  It was purely in his head, but the room felt cold without the lights, as if it was the sole source of heat in the room.  His heart rate started to pick up, and he tensed hard.

But then there was a new source of warmth, as Allura scooted closer.  Judging by the side of her against him, she had grown again, tucking him securely under her arm.

“Close your eyes,” she murmured.  “Just listen.  Then the dark is your choice.”

Breath catching, Shiro obeyed.

The shivers didn’t stop, but the advice was sound.  LIke this, Shiro could almost imagine he was in the kitchen, or here on a normal movie day, or anywhere but that room.

_ “The manor house was huge and stately,” _ Lance’s voice narration, voice thick like he was trying to sound especially posh.   _ “It gleamed in the afternoon sun, shining white metal and crisp lines of blue power...” _

“Did you really need a solid two minutes of explaining the house?” Pidge asked, barely above a whisper.

Lance shushed her.  Loudly.  “It adds to the atmosphere!  Or it does, if you don’t shush!”

_ “As the great detective Ralca stepped into the lavish greeting hall, he heard a shriek from the second floor.” _

There was a long pause.  _  “Lance,” _ Keith muttered, very reluctantly. _  “Really?” _

_ “Do your line!”  _ Lance hissed back.

A sigh, and then a very lackluster  _ ‘aaaah’. _

_ “Keith, c’mon, do it for real!  Follow the instructions I wrote for you!” _

_ “You- ugh.  Fine.  Aaaahh!”   _ This time, the scream had slightly more energy, and a much higher pitch.

“There was only time for one take,” Lance admitted.  “And  _ someone _ couldn’t follow his cues.”

Keith huffed.  “You gave me all the worst parts!”

“Parts were given out on acting merit.”

Lance’s snickering was cut off by a grunt and the sound of a pillow impacting a very smug Blue Paladin.

Slowly, Shiro relaxed, eyes still screwed tightly shut.  He turned, so his face was half-hidden in Allura’s shoulder, and he took a moment to be glad her hair was tied back, so he couldn’t get a face full of it.

This was-

This wasn’t easy.  It wasn’t comfortable in the way it should have been.

But it was still better.

“How did Ralca know that about the butler?” Hunk asked.  

Coran huffed.  “Ralca is incredibly observant!  It said so in the opening narration.  All the stories are like that.”

Lance laughed gleefully.  “Exactly!  Like Sherlock Holmes.”

“I’m not sure what houses have to do with it.”

Slowly but surely, the listening session turned into a riffing session.  Lance kept up his token protests, but soon he was joking along with all the rest of them.

With all the noise and comfort and the sounds of his team having so much fun, Shiro slowly relaxed.

_ “I could not have done this crime,” _ insisted Keith-the-maid, in a surprisingly credible Southern Belle accent.   _ “You must believe me!” _

Shiro snorted. “And this evening Scarlett O’Hara will be playing Keith.”

Snickering, Lance reached over to gleefully tap Shiro’s foot.  Shiro twitched at the contact, nearly kicking, but managed to calm himself in time.  “You, Sir, are no gentleman!” Lance managed, trying and failing to do the accent around his giggles.

Hunk choked out a laugh.  “Great balls of fire!”

There was a long pause.  “I don’t get it,” Keith admitted.  

For some reason, that was what broke Shiro.  He burst into laughter, muffling it into Allura’s shoulder.  She tend him tighter, and he could feel her smile against his forehead.

When the dark was filled with bad radio plays and his friends, there was no room for monsters.

When Shiro was surrounded by jostling bodies in plush pajamas and held close, it was impossible to be cold.

When Shiro trusted his friends to help, his burdens lightened.

In the dark, no one could see Shiro’s face crumple, or the way he curled against Allura, nearly clinging to her now.

Allura could feel it, but she didn’t say a word, just adding to the cheerful teasing of the group.

This was better than having light.  Even when it was extinguished, Shiro wouldn’t be alone again.

Shiro was safe.


End file.
